Luna Broodmare CYOA

You are princess Luna, ruler of Equestria, and you have a problem.

 

After returning from your thousand years of exile, you have found that there are in fact very few ponies around that actually respect you as a rightful monarch. In fact, many of them had not even HEARD of you before your glorious return!

 

"Absolutely disgraceful!" you mutter to yourself as you pace back and forth in your private chambers. It is still filthy from a thousand years of disuse.

 

"How could she have not only let our reputation fall into tatters, but into utter OBSCURITY?" you shout, causing a bit of dust to come drifting down from the ceiling.

 

You stop your pacing, and sit yourself down, still fuming. Your own sister! Surely she had to have a reason for this outrage, but you simply cannot think of one. Now you have naught but a few followers to you name. You do not even have a personal guard, let alone a personal army. It's almost baffling to think about. How things could change in such little time. Mortals are so… Forgetful. Probably has something to do with the whole dying thing.

 

You huff. something has to be done. Normally you would have all matter of royal servants rushing about to obey your every command, but now you have no such thing. Obviously, this will have to be the first problem that you remedy. You are more than capable of doing anything on your own, but that simply isnt proper. There are many MANY tasks that are simply not meant for royalty to perform.

 

"Well," you say to yourself.

 

"If we do not have any servants to serve us…" You pause, pondering a solution to the problem.

 

"We suppose we shall simply have to MAKE some."

 

And why not? You may be an absolutely perfect and supreme being, but you have a more than fit and functional physical vessel as well. Mortal mares produce offspring all the time. If their bodies can do it, then so can yours, and probably much better too.

 

You gracefully scurry to your bookshelves, removing book after book about anatomy and the like, reading them with fervor. You are disappointing by what you find.

 

"Nine months is simply far, far too long!" you protest, indignantly.

 

"And only ONE at a time? Preposterous!" You snort with contempt and slam the book closed. You will simply have to find a way around the usual conventions. You are the most powerful sorceress in existence, and you possess a body of physical prowess second to none. Surely, with the assistance of magic or alchemy, you can accommodate more than a SINGLE foal at a time, and surely in a much shorter period.

 

But still… Where to begin?

 

Obviously, being a sensible pony, you decide that the best place to start would be the library. You own chambers has an extensive library of its own, but you suspect they may be dreadfully outdated. SO, off you go.

 

As you trot through the castles halls, many servants pause and bow their heads to you. But they move on with their own duties shortly after. This only seems to press the problem further into your mind. Not one of them offer to carry your tail, or offer you their assistance! Even with your clearly distraught facial expression! Sister has been lax in her disciplinary duties. Either that, or these servants clearly hold you in contempt.

 

Yes. You most assuredly need to make your own. You will teach them to be proper.

 

The library is extensive as you remember it to be, if not more so. The librarian greets you with a stunned look. The most honest reception you have received all day.

 

"C-can I help you. Princess Luna?"

 

"YES, YELLOW MARE. WE SEEK INFORMATION ABOUT MAGICALLY ASSISTED REPRODUCTION." You reply, courteously.

 

The mare seems cowed, and bewildered. She responds with a timid voice. "I. Okay then. I think.. Uh. Magical Medical Sciences? Section 21-B?"

 

"WE THANK THEE. CARRY ON."

 

You trot quickly to the section, and begin tearing books from the shelves, reading with haste.

 

It takes you a while, but eventually you find a promising looking spell, said to accelerate the growth of a gestating foal by (As the book claims) a dangerous amount, reducing the period of gestation to Anon Decides. It is said to be very taxing on the recipricant of the spell, and causes extreme hunger. To be used only in cases where the mothers or the foals life depends on a swift delivery.

 

Well. This seems very promising indeed. Though, it would still take a significant amount of time to build substantial guard or serving force using this alone. It would be ideal to acquire more methods of speeding the process. On top of that, you still need a method of fertilization.

 

So, you have something that will speed the gestation. But still you need a way to ensure there will be more than a mere single foal growing inside you, and of course, a mate to spend a productive night with.

 

You tap a hoof to your chin again, wandering through the library. What other sorts of useful information could you pry from these dusty shelves clutches?

 

A memory flickers through your mind. The changelings seemed to be remarkably good at reproducing. You remember having to wipe out hordes of them every few years, always with the same queen. Changeling magic might be able to assist. You pick up a book on that, and also dip into the restricted section, acquiring a couple books on summoning rituals. Never know when they come in handy.

 

And last but not least, your searches reveal a book on zebra alchemy, with potions to enhance both female fertility and male virility. Among other things. This is all looking quite promising.

 

With your new knowledge in hoof, you withdraw to your chambers once again, bubbling with anticipation. It feels good to be up and about, solving problems and getting things done.

 

To ensure you will not have to stop once things have begun, you decide you had better do your best to prepare before you go out seeking a stallions seed. Specifically, potions. There are all manors of different things you can do with them, according to the book. Obviously, the first you will brew will be one to aid in your fertility. But what else shall you make?

 

You ponder things. Obviously you have been bedded before, but you have always considered it a chore. Like something you must do to alleviate the pains of heat. Merely an annoying requirement when possessing a physical vessel. Like eating or drinking.

 

You pause. Then again, you have often quite enjoyed eating and drinking in the past. Would it not be possible to enjoy mating as well? You take another look at the zebra book.

 

There are recipes here to ensure the stallions seed will strike true, one to greatly increase semen production, one to enhance size and pleasure, among all manner of other fun-sounding things. These zebras are apparently a species that knows how to enjoy themselves during the intimate hours.

 

Perhaps adding a little zest would make things enjoyable?

 

The longer you stare down at the book, the more you feel that you should just make all of them. You are royalty after all, why should you have to settle for just one or two?

 

At first it seems a little excessive, but then again, why not? It isn't as if you have to USE all of them, but it will be nice to have all your options open when the time comes. Who knows what you may crave in the heat of the moment, and you want to make sure that your every desire is fulfilled.

 

So, you eagerly set about brewing every interesting sounding potion in the book. Fertility, semen production, size enhancements, lactation aids, aphrodisiacs, and even ones that can boost stamina and pleasure.

 

It takes you all afternoon, but you successfully brew them all on your first try. It feels good to finally USE this cauldron that you got like… A millennium and a half ago. You carefully sort each potion into separate vials, taking care to make sure all the vials are different shapes, and then you place them all on one shelf. For what is a shelf full of potions if they do not look like a disorganized array of multicolor liquids in strangely shaped containers? It would be entirely improper otherwise.

 

Besides. You're sure you memorized which ones are which. Mostly.

 

Now then, with that finished, you had best get started on finding a prized stallion to extract seed and a night glorious romantic passion from. It is nearly time for you to raise the moon. So you had best be quick if you wish to begin tonight.

 

You stalk about the castle, eyeing the royal guards and their golden armor and white coats. Clearly they will not do. They have already pledged themselves to the sun.

 

The servants are not particularly interesting either. Most of them are mares, and the few that are stallions seem diminutive and passive. You sigh and shake your head. It seems fate has deemed that you will not find a suitable suitor tonight.

 

Then, something catches your eye as one of the serving girls slips out of a door nearby. You frown, and trust you instincts, approaching the door and pushing it open.

 

It is obviously one of the rooms that the servants use, full of cleaning materials and trolleys and places to store their belongings. But on the wall is a large poster of one of the most stunning specimens of stallion that you have ever seen.

 

He his grinning widely, and flaring his wings out as he soars through the air. He is wearing goggles and a very tight suit made of a shiny material that clings to his every curve. He is clearly quite muscular, and wealthy or noble enough to have a mural of himself placed in the servants quarters. Yes. This stallion will do.

 

The nonsensical word 'Wonderbolts' is at the bottom of the poster. After inquiring with a nearby maid mare, you learn that the Wonderbolts are the most prestigious stunt fliers in all of Equestria, and that Soarin is a member of the team.

 

So he is wealthy, noble, AND a professional athlete. Your choice is made.

 

You decide that this Soarin character is as good as you will find on such short notice, but that perhaps a little more research is needed.

 

You root around in the servants belongs, tossing aside various clothing items and personal memorabilia until you find a postcard with what appears to be the entire Wonderbolts team with all their names signed on it.

 

The yellow mare in front immediately catches your attention. She looks like she has some fire in her. Fitting, as you learn that her name is 'Spitfire'.

 

You stare at her for longer than you feel is necessary, and your mind wanders. Such a fiery soul would be ideal for incubating more subjects. You begin to ponder how she would appear with a belly swollen with foals.

 

You blink, and shake your head. You can think about such things when your own pregnancy is underway. Perhaps you will enlist her as a broodmare, if your own production does not seem to be enough.

 

You are about to turn away when you notice Soarin, in the back row, is staring, quite intently, at Spitfire's rear. You chuckle to yourself and tuck that little nugget away. It would be quite a night to have both of them together, with you. You frown a little as you consider the logistics of the matter. It would be much easier to entertain one mare with two stallions than two mares with one.

 

You smirk a little. You suppose you could remedy that problem with a bit or magic or alchemy.

 

You carefully consider your options as you return to your chambers. You could retrieve this stallion with little effort, tonight. if you so wished. But perhaps, it would be better to simply invite him. A royal feast, for all the Wonderbolts in celebration of their most recent successful tour. You hope it has been successful. You really know next to nothing about them.

 

You set about to writing the invitation. Cordially inviting him to a feast tomorrow evening. You do so hope that he accepts.

 

It will be most unfortunate that he will be the only one who manages to accept. Your own fault entirely, of course. How could you have predicted that all of the Wonderbolts would just so happen to be oh so terribly busy, all on the same day?

 

You giggle to yourself a little. Alone in your dusty room. The light is fading quickly. It seems sister is hard at work doing her nightly duty.

 

After writing the invitation and sending it on its way, you step out onto the balcony and begin your nightly work.

 

As you do so, you plot. Tonight, Soarin will be dreaming. Perhaps you could enter his dreams, play with a few possibilities. He may be more open to manipulation if he has already enjoyed himself in a dream with similar circumstances.

 

Yes. This is a good idea.

 

You wrap up your work, and set yourself about into bed. Entering the world of dreams is not difficult. You close your eyes, and slowly drift from your body.

 

It doesn't take long to find Soarin. He stands out quite clearly. A dark cloud, riddled with thunder and flashes of lightning. It would seem he is dreaming of being trapped in a terrible storm.

 

How might you turn this into something more advantageous to you? What should you do?

 

Skillfully, you cause the clouds above Soarin to part, revealing a bright full moon above him. The sudden break in the weather catches him off guard, and he stares up in wonder, not watching where he is flying.

 

Abruptly, he smashes through a window, which shimmers as the cloud ice composing it quickly works to repair itself.

 

There is a high pitched yelp as Soarin unwittingly tackles someone with his momentum, causing  the two of them to go tumbling across the floor.

 

Deftly, you insert your perspective into that of the dream-mare that Soaring has tumbled into, seeding your own threads of intentions into the dream thoughtform, but leaving its own strings of personality intact. It's been a long time since you have done something like this, but it still comes to you as naturally as raising the moon.

 

"Uh. Oh jeez. I'm so sorry," Soarin mumbles, standing himself up above you.

 

This close to him, you're definitely getting a better look. He is much larger and more handsome in person. A lean, athletic body, with powerful muscles and piercing eyes. A quick glance downward causes you to smirk inwardly. He's already quite impressive, from what is visible at least.

 

"It's… It's alright. You just frightened me is all." You feel and hear yourself say, as the thoughtform does as it feels it should. You squirm, stuck on your back as Soarin stands directly above you. Now would be the time to exert some control. And as you will it, it is so You look up and down Soarins body, and blush, tucking your head down a little.

 

Soarin notices, and realizes the position he is in. He reddens as well, "Oh, right. Sorry." He steps off you, allowing you to get to your hooves.

 

You are tall, and slender. A little regal, but still passable as a normal pony. The color of your coat is all wrong though. Cream, with a tint of pink. Oh well. You cant have everything perfect. It is close enough, for the purposes you have in mind, anyways.

 

Soarin is standing in front of you, looking awkward and unsure as to what to say.

 

What now?

 

You step past him and walk over to the window, being sure to put a nice sway in your hips as you can feel his stare burning on you behind. You smirk a little.

 

"Good thing this is cloud glass, else I'd have had to ask you to pay for it." You turn your head around to look at him, but not your body, making sure your rump is in full view.

 

He's still staring at it, and he continues to for a moment or two before he notices you looking at him. He reddens and looks away.

 

"Oh, right, yeah. Um. Good thing."

 

The thoughtform blushes a little for you, acting shy. Then you step back over to him. "It's okay. I don't mind." you look away a little, letting some of your mane fall over your face.

 

"It get's a little lonely out here sometimes, on the outskirts of Cloudsdale. But you must not know what that's like. You're Soarin, right? Mares must be clambering after you all the time."

 

He pauses, still not sure where this is all going. "Well, not really. I mean to be totally honest we're just so busy all the time I don't really have the time to spend with… Uh. Girls."

 

Your widen your eyes at him, and flick your tail. "Is that so? You must be rather… Pent up, then." You let your gaze wander downward, and you step to his side…

 

What now?

 

"Well, I guess you could ssssaayyoohHHCELESTIA WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

 

You giggle to yourself as you deftly slip underneath him, dragging your tongue over his hefty ballsack and up his swelling sheath. As soon as the tip of his shaft appears, you clamp your mouth around it and tug gently, coaxing the rest of his length out.

 

"Oohhkay. This is really happening. Alright. Breathe." He takes a deep, shakey breath as his cock hardens in your mouth.

 

This thoughtform is REALLY into this, you note as your tongue massages his bulging urethral tube along the underside of his shaft. You go a bit cross-eyed as you behold his thick mottled meat. You reach a hoof forward, gently fondling his balls as you let more of his member slide into your mouth.

 

Soarin lets out a little moan as you fondle him, and you taste a little bit of something on his tip. Likely precum. A pitiful amount though, this would be much more fun with some alchemy involved. You are tempted to use your dream weaving to make things more entertaining, but perhaps you should save that for later. Delayed gratification and all.

 

Suddenly, you pick up your pace, letting his tip slide all the way to the back of your mouth as you eagerly suckle, moaning like a mare in heat.

 

Your noises excite him further, and you note his balls seem to tighten a bit further. Not much longer now. With one quick motion you draw back, and jam the tip of your tongue down his urethra.

 

He shudders, and you gasp as the first large splurt of cum shoves your tongue out, and the second forceful one splashes against the back of your throat, causing you to cough and gag, pulling your head off of him.

 

This results in the rest of his load being spurted and splattered all over your face and mane, dripping and oozing from your coat.

 

Goodness. That was a lot of cum. You can only imagine what he will be like with a couple potions in him.

 

What now? Shall we leave him here and see him tonight, or play with him a bit more?

 

He pants heavily, and you lick your lips, resisting the urge to demand that he lick your royal face clean. He seems satisfied, but you think you can do a little better.

 

You press your face into his slowly softening junk, nuzzling and licking. You open your mouth wide, and take one of his testis into your mouth, gently suckling and massaging the soft sensitive skin with your tongue and mouth.

 

He seems to enjoy this, greatly, letting out a soft groan. "Wow… You're pretty good at this."

 

You let him go, and stand up, smiling at him. He smiles back.

 

"Next time, we'll put that load to better use." You lean forward, and kiss him on the nose. "Save it for me, okay?"

 

With that, and an eerie chuckle, dark clouds fill the room, and the dream is over.

 

You awake, feeling fit and refreshed. It is morning, and time for you to lower the moon. You do so, making way for sisters blinding sun. You have much to do today, but lots of time to prepare.

 

First, you visit the kitchens, and instruct them to prepare a fine feast for two, to be ready by evening. The kitchen staff are a little taken aback, but obey. What else can they do? They may not be your servants, but they are still servants.

 

The rest of the day is spent tidying your room, dusting and preparing, setting a table and the like. It's a lot of work, but the thought of soon not having to worry about doing it yourself eggs you on. And you get it done.

 

Next, as something special to do, you spend the rest of the day making your own candles, mixing a bit of potent aphrodisiac into the mix. A full set of six beautiful scarlet candles is the result. And just in time too. It's about time to raise the moon.

 

As you finish your princessly work, the cooks arrive with a trolley full of food. And lots of it. You know you are going to need it, and possibly more. Oh. And hopefully your guest will enjoy it too.

 

You sit yourself down at the finely set table, and wait.

 

Right on time, Soarin arrives, complete in adorable dinner jacket and bow-tie. We look forward to seeing that tossed into a heap somewhere in the corner. Invite him to have a seat. As you begin dinner, begin with light conversation, and then slowly transition to subtle hints of sexual invitation as the aphrodisiacs take effect. The idea is to get him so wound up that he'll be doing everything in his power to keep himself from begging to fuck us.

 

You don't have to wait long either. Only a few minutes pass before you hear the soft flutter of approaching wings. You barely have time to dose the food before he comes trotting in from the balcony, smiling broadly and wearing a cute little jacket and bow-tie. He pauses and looks around the room.

 

"Am I the first one here?" He asks.

 

You shake your head, solemnly as you light the candles. "I am afraid you are the only one who is coming tonight. All of the others had plans that could not be cancelled."

 

He seems quite shocked at this news. "Really? Everyone shot down a royal dinner? That's… That's terrible! They had better have had some important plans!"

 

You smile a little. At least he knows enough to respect royalty. You gesture to the seat across from you. "Join me. We may be alone, but I aim to ensure thou will remember this night. There isn't much in the world that will compare to the food produced by Canterlot Castles kitchens."

 

At first he seems a bit reluctant, but the smell of the food seems to win him over, and he sits down, fidgeting awkwardly as he looks over all the silverware.

 

"Never dined with high society before, Soarin?" You inquire.

 

He smiles weakly. "I'm afraid not princess. I don't know where to start with all these… Things."

 

You chuckle a little. "Well. Since it is merely the two of us, we may dispense with the proper table manners. Just this once. Help thyself, Soarin. This dinner is in your honor, after all."

 

"Thanks!" He grins, and then plunges his face into the food, loudly slurping up the carrot soup and chomping at they hayfries and specialty flowers. It's a rather amusing, and slightly impressive spectacle to see him eat.

 

You follow suit, eating modest portions. You don't want to be TOO addled by arousal, and you know that you're going to need this food later.

 

In the middle of Soarin's second apple pie, he suddenly freezes mid-bite, and slowly sits up straight, swallowing his food. You lean forward, placing the elbow of your foreleg on the table and resting your head on your hoof. You gaze over at him with half-lidded eyes, idly stirring your soup with another hoof.

 

"Something wrong, Soarin?" You ask.

 

His eyes widen a little, but he shakes his head. "Nope. I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Really delicious food, guess I shouldn't expect anything less."

 

"Mhm. Tis the finest chefs using the finest ingredients. I'm glad you're enjoying it." You pick up a glass of wine, and slowly begin to drink it, leaning your head back further and further as you do, displaying your long neck as it gulps and works to swallow the wine.

 

Soarin shifts in his seat.

 

What else shall you do to tease him?

 

With a large yawn, you stretch languidly, turning your body a little and showing yourself off to him. "It has been a tiring day. It feels good to relax."

 

You pick up a large carrot, and take an abnormally large amount of it into your mouth before biting down, and swallowing. Out of the corner of you eye, you can see Soarin sweating a little.

 

An idea strikes you, and with a subtle spell, a loud knocking noise resounds from your chamber door, and you perk your ears up. "Oh. Who could that be? Perhaps they are delivering more food."

 

You slip our of your chair, and begin slowly striding towards the door, making sure to sway your hips from side to side, occasionally flicking your tail out of the way. You flush red a little as you realize that you're starting to become aroused as well. The candles do not discriminate.

 

You open the door and check outside. Obviously there is no one there. You shrug, and begin walking back to the table. "Odd," you remark, and some of your mane falls over your face. "It must be some of the servants children, playing jokes."

 

Soarin nods weakly. He has both of his forehooves rather forcefully placed in his lap now, out of view.

 

"Soarin. You seem distressed! Worry not. It is a common occurrence here. The rest of the castle is not entirely used to my presence. Here, treat thyself." With a flash of your horn, you send a chocolate covered strawberry sailing towards Soarin.

 

Probably instinctively, he reaches up with both of forehooves, and catches it. At the same time, there is a loud thump from the underside of the table as something meaty slaps up against it.

 

"What was that noise?" You ask, feigning ignorance.

 

"N-Nothing, princess!" Soarin nearly shouts, on the edge of panic.

 

Slowly, you begin to lean over to look under the table, relishing the look of absolute panic on Soarins face.

 

"Princess, wait!" he protests, uselessly.

 

You ignore him, and lift up the tablecloth to reveal a sizable throbbing equine cock pressing up against the underside of the table. Its tip is already beginning to drool.

 

"Oh my goodness!" you feign surprise, putting a hoof to your mouth. "Soarin…" You begin, looking up at him.

 

His panic has been replaced with an expression of the purist shame, avoiding your eyes and seeming devastated. He looks on the verge of tears. Perhaps you have gone too far. Time to let the poor stallion relax.

 

"Thou should have mentioned something earlier…" You slide yourself over next to him, wrapping a foreleg around his shoulders in what you hope is a comforting way.

 

He gazes up at you. "You aren't… Upset? Insulted?" His tone is disbelieving.

 

You chuckle. "Of course not. Why would we be insulted by stallion finding us attractive? It is not as though you can help it." You bite your bottom lip a little as your heart picks up pace.

 

You begin to look at Soarin a bit differently, more seductively, eyes half lidded, a slight smile on your face. "I would be a most improper host if I let you leave in such a state," you explain, and slowly slip a hoof beneath the table, tracing a line up his shaft. He gasps in surprise, but doesn't seem to protest. A good start.

 

Your hoof continues its journey to the very tip, where catching a drop of his pre. You smile wider, and bring your hoof back to your muzzle, licking the drop off with your tongue.

 

He stares, obviously growing more aroused by the second. He's yours now.

 

Your horn ignites with magic as you levitate a wine bottle over to the table. You uncork it, and begin pouring a glass for each of you.

 

"I have not been entirely honest with you, Soarin," you admit.

 

He looks up at you, curiously. "What do you mean, princess?"

 

"I had ulterior motives in inviting you here, and in fact, you were the only one who was even sent an invitation at all."

 

He frowns slightly, but more in confusion than any ill will. "But why?"

 

You gently place a kiss on his neck, and on his cheek. "Because," you whisper in his ear "We needed a stallion. A proper stallion, a handsome stallion, to plant his seed in our womb."

 

Soarin just seems shocked. Too shocked to say anything.

 

"Out of all the stallions in Equestria, we chose you, Soarin." You deftly pour the contents of two small vials into Soarins wine. "So, all I require of you is to enjoy thyself. And to rut me until thy progeny comes spilling forth." You nip the tip of his ear, causing him to twitch. "And don't. Pull. Out." You pull away, smiling. "Think you can handle this most arduous of tasks?"

 

It only takes a moment for him to begin nodding his head stupidly. He's far far too aroused to say no.

 

"Good. Now. Drink this glass of wine." You hover the glass over to him.

 

He hesitates. "Why? What did you put in it?"

 

"Just something to enhance your virility, and to increase the production of thy seed."

 

"Oh." He pauses again, then shrugs. He begins chugging the entire thing.

 

You smile, and turn to your own glass, bringing forth the fertility potion. You want to bear many foals, but you want to still be able to move around. So you pour about half of the potion into the glass. Then, a twinge from your nethers and a brief lapse of judgement causes you to tip the vial and pour a tiny bit more in.

 

Down the hatch it goes.

 

After that, both of you are onto the bed faster than you can say 'passionate fornification'. You shove him onto his back and tear his clothes of with you teeth, tossing them off the bed with a flourish.

 

His bow-tie somehow still remains, and the sight of him on his back sporting an erection while wearing nothing but a cute little bow-tie makes you giggle. Soarin blushes.

 

"Princess, I think whatever you put in that glass is starting to woo-ooahh…" He tenses, his toned muscles flexing along his stomach and in his legs. You watch with barely contained glee as his ballsack swells slightly, bulging with newly produced seed.

 

You lower yourself down, nuzzling at them merrily as the potion does its work. The skin covering them grows a bit tighter as their contents churn with new growth, beginning to resemble a pair of productive orbs rather than a loose sack.

 

With a lick of your lips, you levitate over another special treat that you prepared for tonight. An alchemically enhanced ointment, that might just double as lubrication. You pop it's top off, and scoop a generous amount out with a hoof.

 

You sit, and begin your affectionate work, slathering the gooey stuff all over Soarin's mottled, beautiful cock. You have never really appreciated just how aesthetically pleasing this part of the male anatomy is until now. Especially how it twitches, and how delightfully solid it is.

 

"L-Luna? What is that? It feels funny. I… Oh. Oh wow." Soarin stares down at himself, as his stallionhood begins to slowly throb larger… And larger. It swells forth, thickening and lengthening. The skin makes a soft sound as it stretches to accommodate, and for some reason it excites you.

 

"Apologies, Soarin. We alicorns are larger in stature, and thus acquire larger needs." You smile, and lean forward, nuzzling at the tip of his shaft as it grows.

 

Soarin nods weakly, and slowly sits up, staring down at his now quite impressively sized shaft sitting handsomely atop his swollen balls, which are practically sloshing with unspent seed.

 

At this point, you're feeling downright randy. You want him inside you. You want him inside you RIGHT NOW! And since you are a princess of Equestria, what you want, you GET. You spring forward, pushing him back onto his back as you eagerly straddle him, grinding your marelips against the edge of his member with a ladylike moan of pleasure. Little sparks of heat spread through you, and you raise yourself up, staring down at him with lustful eyes as you position yourself.

 

At last, you lunge downward, letting out a cry of please as you feel his spire skewer you, plunging into your depths and filling places you never realized needed to be so desperately filled. You pant lightly, letting a bit more of his length slide into you.

 

Soarin leans his head back, and abruptly bucks upward, jamming a few extra inches inside. The surprise catches you off guard, and you quiver, your inner muscles massaging him and drawing forth a hearty spurt of pre that warms your insides in the most delightful way.

 

"Ah~ That feels wonderful!" You exclaim, and with a lighthearted giggle of delight, you stop supporting your weight. The result is an explosion of pleasure as you side all the way onto Soarin's massive cock, letting its tip penetrate your deepest depths and drawing forth a scream of pleasure from the both of you.

 

Soarin begins thrusting upward, panting heavily from the stimulation of his meat being entirely hilted. And each time he does, you cannot stop yourself from letting out a little feminine 'Oh!' of surprise and satisfaction as he juts upward again and again and again.

 

This feels wonderful. It has never felt this wonderful before. How could you have ever considered this just a chore to be taken care of? You can feel everything, everything! Every twitch, every throb, every spurt and spasm! You aren't sure how much more you can take of this!

 

You press yourself forward, and your upper chest bumps against the smaller pony's nose. He grunts softly as you wrap your forelegs around him, and then roll over, placing him on top of you.

 

He's a bit stunned for a moment or two at the sudden shift in position, but then you spread your legs for him. Splaying yourself out in all your royal glory.

 

"Take me, Soarin! Your princess commands it! We want every last drop!"

 

He doesn't need to be told twice, and begins quickly pounding away, sliding almost the entire length of his engorged cock in and out of you with each thrust. The pleasure this causes you is incredible, and you are at risk of almost fading away into pure carnal lust, the slap of his hefty balls against your ass just driving you to further reaches of arousal.

 

Then, quite abruptly, you feel the tip of Soarin's shaft swell up, flaring inside of you, and your goals come swimming back into view. He seems intent on just continuing to thrust in and out, but you can't have that. The time you have been waiting for is near!

 

You lift your hind legs up and wrap them around his waist, violently pulling him against you and pinning him there balls deep and hilted I'm you. Just in time too. You are acutely aware of his urethral tube swelling up as the first wave of cum comes pouring through. Soarin moans and kicks, twitching and grinding intensely as his alchemicaly modified junk begins its work.

 

The first spurt of his seed jets into your depths with a strength that surprises you. And it's just enough to put you over the edge. You shriek, and the fleshy walls of your mare hood begin to spasm and flex around Soarin, coaxing him further as the muscles within you unite literally begin to milk his member. You begin to release some fluids of your own.

 

It's just too much. Again and again he spurts inside you. Flooding your overly fertile womb with perhaps the most virile seed in Equestria. It fills you up with a delicious warmth that you have never before experienced in all your years. It is not enough.

 

"M-more Soarin! You must give me more!" You shout, throwing your head back and arching you back. You wind yourself flaring your wings, their impressive wingspan extending off either side of the bed.

 

Soarin obliges, doing another useless little thrust and grunting as his productive balls gain a second wind. More seed. Torrents of it spew from his tip, filling every crevice it can find within you. The fullness you feel is disappointing. Surely you can hold more!

 

As you feel the seed begin to squeeze out from around his member, you shout in protest. Every last drop! You require every last drop to perform your duties!

 

You bite our bottom lip, and clamp down as hard you can, preventing anything from escaping. Not even Soarin, who lets out a little noise of surprise at the increased pressure.

 

Still he continues to pump into you, and you can feel your insides overfill, and begin to stretch. But you are a princess of Equestia, and your will is strong. You do not let up, and feel a little bit of pride well up inside you as you watch your slim stomach bulge out a little from the sheer volume of your wombs contents.

 

Finally. Soarin collapses atop you, his task complete. He did well. Almost better than you could have hoped. His shaft begins to soften, which poses a problem.

 

Perhaps you should keep yourself from draining for a while? To ensure insemination? If so, then for how long?

 

You decide that plugging yourself until morning would be the best course of action, and suppress a soft moan as you gently pull off of Soarin. Things immediately begin to leak out, and so you quickly conjure up a suitable instrument to plug yourself up until morning.

 

You yawn, and glance over at your stallion. He is already sleeping. It makes you smile. You suppose he may share your bed. Just this once. He has worked hard for it after all.

 

You settle down, and close your eyes.

 

Slowly, surely, you begin to stir. It has been a very very long time since you've had a dreamless night. They were your only company in your lonely prison on the moon. When you were asleep, and had some measure of power over yourself. It was easier to fit the nightmare when you were dreaming. Didn't stop you from causing a few nit mares here and there, though.

 

You shake such unpleasant thoughts from your mind. Things are different this time, and opening your eyes reinforces that. Soarin is still laying across from you, his mouth open a little in his stupor. He appears to be drooling.

 

The sight makes you giggle, and you press a hoof to your mouth to muffle the sound. He looks so adorably peasantlike. A mere subject, but a loyal one, and you find yourself suppressing the urge to give him a kiss on the nose. You like him, but princesses must not be seen doing such things… Outside of fits of passion anyway.

 

You gracefully slip out of bed, soundlessly stretching your slender limbs and yawning. You can feel Soarin's seed still sloshing around inside of you, and that reminds you of the first order of the day. Drain yourself, and cast the spell.

 

So, you quietly excuse yourself to your cleaning facilities, and unplug yourself. The sensation of so much warm liquid spilling out of you is an unusual one. You suspect that it could be pleasurable, we're you in the proper mood.

 

That done, you set about casting the spell, bubbling with excitement. It is a surprisingly simple ritual, requiring no more than a sealed circle and a few conduit candles of the proper color. Materials that you have in spades. Drawing the proper sigils gives you a bit of trouble, but you chalk that up to not being in practice.

 

You stand in the circle, and begin feeding the ritual the proper energy that it needs.

 

This is not the sort of magic that you prefer doing. Normally you do not bother with silly things like chalk and candles and specifically placed runes and sigils. Your magic is driven by emotion, by need and by pure will. You command reality, and reality obeys. All this working around and piecing puzzles together is not your forte.

 

The circle and sigils begin to glow with a pale light, and the flame of the candles climb higher and higher as you feed them magic. The power slides through the chalk lines on the floor, tracing the patterns and sigils as they gently program it for the task it must perform. It draws closer and closer, before finally returning to you in one great surge.

 

Your hair flutters about in the winds of magic, and. Your eyes and mouth open wide, siphoning off the excess power as it does its work. Out of the corner of your eye you can see rigid lines and patterns of magic crawling up your legs and coalescing on your belly, where they intensify, and then sink into your skin.

 

The light fades, and the candles are nothing more than puddles of wax on the floor of your ritual room. You take a deem breath, already feeling a slight tingling in your womb. It has taken far too long to reach this point, but it's here.

 

So what should you do now? You suppose you had better bathe. Unless you WANT to go walking about the castle smelling of a stallions musk with his dried seed caked on your rump.

 

Bathe first, of course. A proper princess must bathe at least once daily! You turn, and trot towards your bathroom, already conjuring the spell to fill the tub with steaming hot water.

 

With a poof and a sploosh, the comfortably tiled room is beginning to get misty with warm steam. You sigh as you slowly slip into the warm water. It feels rather wonderful, and you begin to relax. For the next three days, all you need to do is make sure you are properly fed, and free of stress. The difficult part is over.

 

The thought of a lovely three days of doing nothing but feasting and relaxing makes you smile. You miss the olden days where such things were more common. You don't care what your sister says. Mead and feast halls were a fine addition to the landscape. And gave ponies a reason to stay up late. Even if they were usually to drunk or "busy" to really pay attention to your stars.

 

A churning within you breaks you from your thoughts, and you pause, the floating brush stopping mid stroke of your hair. It happens again, causing the muscles along your stomach to flex reflexively. You tilt your head. Just the spell at work, you suppose.

 

You finish your bath, and return to our room. Soarin is finally awake, and he is staring at you with a vacant expression.

 

"Yes," you reply, and wince as a loud gurgle emits from your middle.

 

"What?"

 

"Last night really happened." You smile, and walk over to the bed.

 

You suppose you could dismiss him. His job is done, after all.

 

You lean over, and nuzzle up his neck. "You are dismissed, Soarin." You whisper.

 

He blinks. "But what about what you said last night? You said… I mean… Foals?" His voice is laced with concern.

 

"You needn't worry about it. You bear no responsibility." You reassure him. But it doesn't seem to help him worry any less.

 

"But, if you like, ou may return sometime." You grin, perhaps a little wickedly. "And next time I send for you, bring that pretty mare friend of yours. Spitfire."

 

His eyes widen when you mention Spitfire, but other Han that, he does nothing, and continues to stare. Eventually, your patience thins.

 

"We'll, go on then. You are dismissed," you command, a bit more force in your voice.

 

He makes a small sound, and clambers out of bed quickly, seeming to remember who you are. "Yes, of course princess. My apologies." He trots across your room, and slips through the door to your balcony. Vanishing from sight.

 

You sigh, and once again your stomach rumbles. Not from hunger, you don't feel pecking yet. Something deeper. The tingling seems to have been joined by a strange warmth. A warmth that you thought was just leftover from the bath, but it seems to be growing more intense instead of fading away.

 

You lift a hoof from the ground, and stroke along your belly, applying a little pressure… You haven't grown or anything yet, but already you think you feel a bit more stiff. Less pliable. Harder. As you stand there, your belly gurgles again, and you gasp as you swell a little beneath your hoof. It isn't noticeable yet. You don't even look like you have a paunch. But it's more than before. You have an odd full feeling. Like the one from last night.

 

You shift a little on your hooves. Perhaps you should not have poured yourself so much potion last night. Aready getting this effect after only an hour or so. How big will you be after three days?

 

Another rumble. NOW you're hungry.

 

You stroke your belly idly, glancing around the room. Your eyes fall on the platters of food left here from last night. There is still a considerable amount left.

 

You step forward, intent on consuming the leftovers of that wonderful meal with relish, but a thought gives you pause. You had dosed this food with aphrodisiac hadn't you? It didn't effect you nearly as much as it did Soarin, but it could still be irritating. You aren't sure if you want to deal with satisfying yourself.

 

You bite your bottom lip, considering your options. You could eat the food anyway, and just just deal with or ignore the effects. Or you could have new food prepared, which could take half an hour or so.

 

More noise from your gut, and you're unsure if it came from your stomach or your womb.

 

You shake your head. Nay. It would be better to ensure your mind is unmuddied today. You must ensure they everything goes smoothly, and that may be difficult when every stallion you pass is turning their head to see which mare is letting loose such a potent scent. No. You will preserve this food for a later date.

 

And with a quick zap of your horn, the food is just that, preserved and unspoiled.

 

Now what? Obviously you will need more food to fuel your progeny's growth, so you should set off to the kitchens. Are there any preparations you should make before you go?

 

Your eyes fall on an abandoned dinner jacket in the corner of the room, and you suddenly feel a rush of remorse for that poor stallion.

 

You steel yourself, and push the jacket from your mind for now. You can deal with Soarin later. For now, you need food, and soon.

 

You stride from your chambers and make your way to the kitchens again, who are once again, surprised to see you. It's as if you live here or something.

 

You clear your throat, and tell them exactly what you need. Food. Lots of food, some healthy food, lots of fattening food, one or two confections, some bulk staples, the works. You  order them to deliver the feast to your chambers as soon as possible, and munch idly on some flowers and hay that they have set aside as you place your orders.

 

They rush about, hurrying to provide top notch food to the entire palace, as well as dealing with the heavy load from your additional demands. It's rather curious to watch them work your requests into the regular rotation of cooking, cleaning, and preparing. Though you feel a slight twinge that they don't make your breakfast a priority.

 

The hay and flowers you are snacking on seem to only make your appetite stronger, and it's starting to make you a bit twitchy. This prep may take a while. Perhaps you can get something else done in the meantime? You hear of a variety of lotions and salves and ointments that aid the stressed skin and body of pregnant mares. Considering how quickly you are going to be growing, perhaps it would behoove you to pick up a supply?